


Eleven

by Jotun_Half_Breed



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, Bisexual Peter Parker, Blood and Injury, Honestly He really gets a poor deal here, Hurt Loki (Marvel), I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel)'s Lips Sewn Shut, Loki Mood Scale, M/M, One Shot, Pain, Pansexual Loki, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Loki (Marvel), Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark POV, Vomiting, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24148972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jotun_Half_Breed/pseuds/Jotun_Half_Breed
Summary: Peter was on his knees, his head of brown curls bowed and pressed against the chest of another boy as he sobbed. The boy’s pale slender hands carded through Peter’s hair, silently soothing him, his bright green eyes downcast, face taut with unconcealed pain. His raven hair fell to below his shoulders, sticking to the blood on his face in places, matted and tangled, so unlike his usual refined elegant self. And the worst part wasn’t the blood, or the mess, or his obvious pain. The worst part was the way his lips had been crudely stitched shut with thread, tugging on the skin whenever he tried to open his mouth to breath better, blood dripping from the gashes.Peter asks Tony for help, but is Tony willing to put the past behind him and do what is right?
Relationships: Loki/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 430
Collections: MCU Must Reads





	Eleven

Tony Stark loved Sundays. Sundays were the days he could relax, stretch out on the sofa, watch outdated Disney movies and consume way too much popcorn. There was no work on Sundays. No calls from Stark Industries, no press tours with people asking him stupid questions, no Avengers business at all. Just him, his tower, his bowl of popcorn and…

“Mr Stark?”

He sighed and turned his head towards the door, coming face to face with a pale distressed-looking Peter Parker. 

“What is it Pete?” he groaned, standing up and taking a few steps away from Peter to get a better look at him. The boy was shaking slightly, his breath somewhat quicker than usual and to Tony’s horror, there was a bloodstain visible on his shirt sleeve. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Peter twisted his hands together as though he was trying to throttle someone. “Mr Stark, I need your help.”

“Of course you do,” Tony raised an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m amazing. Should I call the Avengers or…”

“No!” Peter shouted slightly too loudly, coughed and then took a deep breath, repeating quietly. “No. Please, Mr Stark, I need this to stay between us.”

This caught Tony’s attention instantly. The boy was obviously working himself into a state. “Alright,” he said soothingly. “It’s just us. Come on, kid. What’s going on?”

Peter straightened, looking Tony dead in the eye. “You have to promise me. Promise you won’t involve the others. Promise you’ll trust me.”

“Ok, ok. Kid,” he met his gaze firmly, though he was slightly worried by the look on Peter’s face, “I trust you.”

Peter nodded. “I - I need you to get a first aid kit and… come to my room.” He nodded and moved to leave before pausing and twisting back to him. “No weapons!”

Tony sighed, perplexed and slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t get to fight after all. “Friday, where is the nearest first aid kit?”

“Right behind you, sir,” the voice chimed cheerfully and he turned to see a robotic arm drifting along the floor holding the kit.

“Thanks, Dum-E,” he muttered to the robot before striding after his kid.

When he reached the door with Peter’s name meticulously carved into the top of it with vivid blue and red pigment, he paused. Inside, Peter was talking soothingly, receiving no answer in reply. His voice was shaky, repeating phrases like ‘it’s ok’ and ‘I’ll protect you’. After a moment, Peter’s unmistakable sobs sped through the air towards him and Tony pushed open the door to reveal the strangest sight. Peter was on his knees, his head of brown curls bowed and pressed against the chest of another boy as he sobbed. The boy’s pale slender hands carded through Peter’s hair, silently soothing him, his bright green eyes downcast, face taut with unconcealed pain. His raven hair fell to below his shoulders, sticking to the blood on his face in places, matted and tangled, so unlike his usual refined elegant self. And the worst part wasn’t the blood, or the mess, or his obvious pain. The worst part was the way his lips had been crudely stitched shut with thread, tugging on the skin whenever he tried to open his mouth to breath better, blood dripping from the gashes.

Tony froze for only a moment. “Let go of him, Loki,” he growled and Peter shot up, quickly wiping tears from his eyes, but Tony didn’t look at him. “I said let him go. Get your creepy mind magic out my kid’s head.”

Loki shuddered and pressed his back further up against the foot of the bed, but Peter grabbed his arm, giving him a pleading look, before glaring at Tony. “You promised, Tony. You said you would trust me!”

“That was before he got involved! Get away from him, Peter, he’s dangerous.”

Suddenly, the kid was on his feet, his eyes blazing. “He’s not. Mr Stark, he’s hurt. He - He needs help and… and if you won’t give it to him I will.”

Tony shook his head, gritting his teeth, glaring at the God of Mischief. “Get out of his head, Rudolf.”

“He’s not in my head, Tony!” Peter screamed through his tears and Tony shook his head, not able to look into those undeniably hazel eyes. 

“Then come over here and let me deal with him,” Tony begged. 

Peter glared at him and took a step closer to the god. “I can’t believe I trusted you.”

At this moment, Loki let out a low whimper, rolling his head back to lean against the bed, another dribble of blood trickling out of his mouth as he tried to suppress a cough. His body shuddered and he reached out to grasp Peter’s hand, tugging him down to the floor beside him, forcing the boy to meet his eye. Peter blinked twice, watching Loki give a strained smile and gesture painstakingly to the first aid kit in Tony’s hand and then to himself. 

The younger boy shook his head. “No, Loki. You’ll hurt yourself.”

The god twisted his hand and Tony felt the weight vanish from his hand as the kit appeared in a green flash in Loki’s lap. “What the…” he swore, watching as Loki pulled scissors from the bag and steadied them against his ragged lips with shaking hands. He really was going to hurt himself, Tony realised. He couldn’t just stand by and watch this. “No, stop. I’ll do it, ok. I don’t want any more blood on this carpet.”

Loki’s lips twitched, another dribble of blood running down his chin and into his lap. He carefully held out the scissors and Tony took it, trying not to think about who this was as he knelt next to the god. 

He hesitated, then looked to Peter. “Help me get him on the bed.”

Peter obeyed without question, moving to put one of Loki’s arms around his shoulder as Tony did the same. Loki let out a panicked whimper of pain, tilting his head to the side and tucking his chin to his chest as though that would help with the pain coursing through his malnourished body. Tony could feel every one of his ribs through his clothes and his arms were bonier than usual. It was obvious that the God of Mischief had been tortured. Loki sank into the covers, his clenched jaw softening slightly and his eyes opening again to stare, not at Tony, but at Peter, who crawled onto the mattress and slid his hand into the other boy’s, running his fingers over the black-painted nails. 

Tony hadn’t had a moment to think about it before this, but why was Loki here of all places? Why did he come to Peter’s room in the Avengers Compound? Surely, he knew he would have been arrested. Surely, in his time of need, he would have gone anywhere but here. He looked at the two boys and their intertwined hands. No. No, no, no, no, no. He would not think of that possibility now.

“Mr Stark?” Peter’s voice was barely a whisper. 

Tony mentally shook himself and gestured to Loki. “I need you to hold his head steady. This isn’t going to be pretty.” He forced himself not to throw up at the thought of how much messier this was going to get. 

Peter was as pale as Tony felt, but he nodded bravely and moved to the top of the bed, gently raising Loki’s head so he could place it on his lap as he slid his hand to either side of it, carefully massaging his scalp and temples. There it was again. That practiced closeness. What wasn’t Peter saying? Where did the secrets end?

The engineer pulled himself onto the bed next to the god’s head, trying not to look into those emerald green eyes, trying not to look at the hands fisting the duvet and the subtle dip of his head that told him he had permission to begin, trying not to look at the tears on his old enemy’s cheeks and the childlike affinity of the god that had once levelled a city. Tony took a deep breath. 

“I need you to part your lips, so I can cut the thread.”

He watched as Loki obeyed without question, blood sliding out of the corners of his mouth. Tony slipped the scissors into the gap and slowly began to cut. Loki’s body jerked and his eyes conveyed a silent scream as the cords tugged. Tony quickly caught him by the jaw, noting how Loki had flinched violently at the firm touch and continued the snip at the threads. 

“Shhh,” Peter tried to soothe the god. “Loki, it’s ok. You’re safe. Just hold on.”

To Tony’s surprise, Loki stilled, only barely quivering, allowing him to cut the last piece of string. As he finished, he only had a second to jump backwards before Loki turned his head and vomited a mixture of bile and blood onto the floor. Then he collapsed, shaking, taking deep ragged breaths. Tony moved forwards again, attempting to try to pull the detached pieces of string from Loki’s lips, but the god flinched away, curling up against Peter and he stopped. 

Peter gently carded a hand through the matted hair and stroked his bloodied cheek. The boy looked up at Tony, giving a strained smile and jerking his head, asking silently for him to give them a bit more space. Tony obeyed, moving to stand in the doorway, but not daring to leave. Loki was still a criminal, no matter how young he looked without his armour. Peter pulled Loki’s hair back out of his eyes. 

“Come on,” he murmured. “Try to sit up.”

Loki let out a soft groan before allowing Peter to help him into a sitting position against the wall. His eyes were still closed, but his hand reached out, gripping Peter’s collar as the boy leaned forward. The first piece of twine came out without a problem. Loki shuddered slightly but allowed him to continue. With each tug at his swollen lips, his grip on Peter’s collar tightened, but the sixteen-year-old didn’t seem to mind, so Tony forced himself not to intervene. His stomach complained painfully and he was startled to see that he was the only one who seemed sickened by the smell of blood and vomit ruining his carpet and furniture. Peter kept up his quiet mantra of assurances and apologies throughout and though it seemed like Loki didn’t understand the words he was hearing, the melody of the other boy’s voice easily soothed him, distracting him from the pain. Finally, the last piece of twine dropped onto the bed beside them and Peter gently detached Loki’s fingers from his collar. 

“Don’t leave,” he begged the god, who, in Tony’s opinion, was probably in no condition to leave anyway. “I’m going to get you a cloth and then I’ll run you a bath.”

Loki gave the tiniest of nods, seeming used to the other boy’s coddling, his eyes dropping to his own scarred and bloodstained hands as Peter moved into the bathroom, returning almost instantly with a wet cloth and some bandages. He crawled back over the bed to Loki’s side, tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind Loki’s ear. Loki’s head shot up to stare at the younger boy, who took advantage of this movement to hesitantly wipe some of the blood from around his lips. Loki flinched and Peter dropped the cloth so he could cradle the god’s face in his hands, wiping a tear from his cheek.

“I think we’re gonna need a new scale,” he said shakily, giving Loki a crooked smile, which surprisingly was returned. 

The way they were looking at each other sent shivers down Tony’s spine, and he couldn’t help but interrupt them. “You’ve got a scale? What are you now, boyfriends?”

Peter’s face went bright red as he laughed nervously, and Loki’s swollen lips curled into a soft smile. “Good guess,” the god slurred weakly and Peter hid his face in his hands. This was not the reaction he had longed for.

“It’s a scale of whether or not he is feeling like murdering someone. It’s bad if it gets above six.” Peter glared at Tony. “Right now I’m on a seven.”

Tony snorted, still in shock from the whole ‘my kid is dating a mass murderer’ thing. 

Peter turned back to Loki. “On a scale of one to ten -one being you want to hit someone and ten being you want to curl up and cry until your eyes dry out- how are you now?” 

Loki’s expression crumpled, vulnerability plainly visible in his green eyes. “Eleven,” he whispered, tears spilling onto his cheeks.

Peter let out a low sob and bundled Loki into his arms, allowing him to hide his face in his shoulder as his body shook with furious tears. He pressed his lips into his boyfriend’s hair, comforting him as Loki let out days worth of pain and fear. Sliding onto his back on the bloodied duvet, he pulled him to his chest, their bodies tangled together. 

Tony let out a quiet sigh. He was too old for this. He looked at the two of them, curled up against each other. They were fine. They could handle this themselves. He slid out of the room, slumping onto the sofa as soon as he reached it and making an ignominious endeavour to forget the day's events. Peter was dating Thor's baby brother. Loki seemed to be a kid. Loki with his lips sewn shut. Loki crying in Peter’s arms. Peter holding him as though if he let go, his boyfriend would vanish. Those poor kids.

Tony swore softly, realising that he was beginning to pity Loki. 

But, still. Those poor kids. They had found happiness with each other, and Tony promised himself, he would put aside all his personal grievances with the god if that was what he needed to do to protect them. Because the gods knew they needed to be protected. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Loki's mood scale as I've called it is something I've seen a couple of times in other fics and posts and I loved it so much that I had to put it in here. I love the relationship these two have and wish we could have seen some of it onscreen. 
> 
> What's your favourite ship?
> 
> Anyway, kudos if you liked this fic and stay safe!


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